Quite frankly, Matt Lickona's plea for Eddie to indulge his leather (or is it latex?) fantasy shocked me. How does one compile a list of Eddie's atrocities only to leave off the biggest O'Henry Bar in the pool, The Adventures of Pluto Nash?

It could be the recent attack of food poisoning still working its way through my system or PTD (Post-Telethon Depression), but the announcement that Eddie Murphy will host this year's Oscars came as a pleasant surprise. I am nothing if not loyal, and while the statute of limitations has long been up -- 1999's Life is Eddie's last wholly consumable comedy -- dynamite won't move me from his corner.

Walter Hill's 48 Hrs. is a perfect film, one I watch at least twice a year, generally after the latest SNL-inspired big screen floperoo leaves me longing for a reminder that not long ago Hollywood was capable of delivering a spotless, technically-resplendent comedy blockbuster. Murphy's performance is a major contributing factor. Given the Academy's general allergic reaction to comedy, it's not surprising they snubbed him when it came time to hand out their golden doorstops.

That one film gave Eddie Murphy a lifetime pass. I am almost ashamed to admit that I have seen every one of Eddie's features first run. Allow me to qualify that: live-action features. Eyes that touch Shrek will never touch mine. I actually paid to see Pluto Nash. (Christ, how I paid!) It hasn't exactly been a good fight, but it's one I'm in for the long haul.

Perhaps the greatest defense of my undying allegiance is the copy of Beverly Hills Cop III, a cherished guilty pleasure, on my video shelf. It's parked between Pluto Nash and The Nutty Professor, the latter made with respect and Jerry's blessings.

Director and Oscar-telecast co-producer Brett Ratner (Rush Hour, Rush Hour 2, Rush Hour 3) is currently filming Tower Heist which stars Murphy, and it's clear he helped to grease the wheels. It's about time he did something positive with his career.

This honor is about 25 years too late but I actually think it could be a good choice.

Last year's hosts couldn't ad-lib a fart after a Boston baked bean dinner. If the TelePrompTer went out, I feared Anne Hathaway's large, gorgeous eyes would have blown out their sockets for fear of actually talking without a script. James Franco, to his credit, got stoned and didn't give a rat's ass.

With Murphy, you have a funny, quick-witted comedian who has proven he can think on his feet and make it up as it goes along. Plus there's the element of danger that Murphy might drop a F bomb or piss off a certain segment of Hollywood and not give a damn.

As per our discussion after last year's Oscar-cast, Kirk Douglas and the ghost of Hope would be a ratings bonanza! But are you sure you want an animatronic Hope let loose on an unwitting American public for three-plus hours? Look at the damage last year's two-minute dosage unleashed! Who do you think leaked those Wikis, huh? No one will notice if my head explodes all over my living room walls one night while re-watching "Bob Hope's Easter Spoof of 'Psycho' with Tony Perkins?" You have a wife and children. Think of them.